i went through a period at the height of my delusional thinking where i was truly convinced my purpose on earth was to bring about the apocalypse and end life as we know it so it could be reborn softer and more beautiful. now i'm thinking maybe i was right all along, but the only life needing an end and rebirth is my own. some nights it doesn't feel too late to rebuild all the little civilizations in my head, so maybe we still have a chance.

i feel a sense of not belonging that runs far deeper than just an inability to connect with my surroundings. it quite genuinely feels as though i've been cosmically misplaced somewhere i very much was not meant to be.

i've read multiple accounts of those who've said their life hasn't felt real or had changed drastically since 2012. looking back myself, oddly enough, that's also the year my own life changed and i still experience the aftershocks of it every moment. how odd.

the ability to look back in time and find the choice that set your life on its current path is a strange thing. even stranger is the thought you may someday be looking back at this exact moment and feel the same way.

there's a very specific feeling places like unfamiliar gas stations, rest stops or airports bring about. they have a sort of chaotic energy and seem to exist only in the strange in-between state of coming and going, as if when you leave them they'll disappear.